It All Ends Tonight
by cookiecreature
Summary: This story is basically my version of what happened after the Battle at Hogwarts. The ships are mostly George/Hermione and Ron/Hermione, but I'll throw in a few more later on. Enjoy.
1. The Patronus

**I read somewhere once that George wasn't able to produce a patronus anymore after Fred's death, because all of his happy memories were with Fred. So I decided to use that as a starting point for this story. I hope you guys like it. **

The rain fell in large drops over a quiet street. Not a soul could be seen walking along the flooded pavement. The ice cold wind and the freezing water pouring from the heavens was enough to keep almost everyone out of the rain. The weather was monstrous and everyone took to the comfort of their homes, everyone except a young man walking alone along the water-filled pavement.

As the youth and the adults alike gathered around a blazing fire burning in their hearths, George Weasley, continued on through the streets, clearly oblivious to the skies bombarding him with rain. Neither the roaring air nor the icy droplets of water falling from above seemed to faze him. He just, unrelentingly, went on, unaware of anything but the thoughts from his head that threatened to smother him.

It had been a year since Fred had passed away, but to George it only seemed like seconds ago. He would never be able to forget the look on his twin's face as he lay on the ground, his last laugh still etched upon his face. His mirror image, his brother, his best friend gone, and only his cold shell left. The memory haunted George wherever he went. He was never safe from it and he would never be, because like a parasite, it had crawled into the inner recesses of his mind and he had no idea how to get it out.

The pain that he had gone through when he had lost his brother was always there, like a monster lying in wait. George tried to put on a brave face during the day, especially when he was with friends or family. But at night, when everyone was gone, when everyone had left him, the façade that he had so patiently built crumbled around him.

At first, these subtle signs of mourning didn't seem to register in his mind, but as time wore on he started to see that the weight on his chest grew heavier every day. And as the load grew he found that the simplest things that he would do caused him pain. He would never admit it to his family, but at odd times in the day George would find himself staring at the mirror for hours on end pretending that his brother was still standing in front of him, breathing and alive. Sometimes he would write letters to himself and then sign Fred's name on it instead of his, just so he could pretend that Fred was merely out of town, and not buried ten feet underground. Most of the time though, George would simply just lie in bed holding his brother's hand-knitted sweatshirt in his hand; unmoving and silent as he stared off into space. And it was during these times in the day, that the mere thought of what had happened would reduce him to tears.

George's jaw clenched, his thoughts consuming him once more. These days it was becoming harder and harder to stop the barrage of memories from attacking him, because try as he might, he would always be reminded of his brother. His twin's death, although over a year ago already, was still fresh in his mind and it hurt him to remember, but he knew that he needed to be strong, he knew that somehow he needed to try and carry on. His family, his friends, they all wanted him to be alright and sometimes it was comforting to know that he had people who would listen to him, most of the time though, it was difficult for him to tell them that he was still hurting inside. It was at these times that he wished everyone would just leave him alone.

Unfortunately, today was one of those days. George, just simply wanted to be left alone. He just wanted to be given time to think, but it seemed that Fate had somehow conspired against him. Now, he was being forced to put up his mask once more and return to his home, the joke shop, and pretend to be okay in front of his family, who were becoming increasingly annoying in regards to their frequent visits to his house, despite their good intentions.

George looked ahead and realized that he was nearly home. A few more blocks and he would arrive at the joke shop, the shop that he and _his brother _had built... George choked back a sob as he realized that in a few days it would be their birthday, and he would have to face it alone. _I don't want to be alone, _he thought as a cold wind whipped around him. Images of his last birthday with his twin resurfaced, and it took all of his strength to try to keep the tears at bay. His lip quivered from the effort and he sucked in a sharp, deep breath trying to calm himself. But, no matter what he did, the image of his twin blowing out the candles of their cake slipped back into his mind, and it was then that he realized how cold it had suddenly become. George, with a sudden fear that gripped his heart, whipped his head around. At first he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but then, a wisp of white from the corner of his eye, caught his attention.

_Fog, _he thought, as a shiver ran through his body. _It couldn't be, they're all supposed to be gone by now, _he said to himself. The fog was moving closer and closer, its wispy tendrils reaching out like fingers laying hold to the air around him. George's head was spinning and his heart started pounding in his chest, but he couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot, eyes wide and unbelieving. _No, no, _he murmured as a dark, black, figure appeared from within the fog, its arm outstretched, and moving straight towards him.

_Dementor, _he said to himself as the hooded figure, clad in what could only look like the attire of Death, glided straight for him. George whipped out his wand, his hand trembling in the process and pointed it towards the dementor.

"Expecto patronum!" he shouted as a feeble strand of white light shot slowly out of his wand. "Expecto patronum!" he tried again but his patronus refused to appear. _Think George, the happiest moment of your life. Think, _he said to himself as the dementor drew nearer with every second.

"Expecto patronum!" he shouted into the still air, but his thoughts were clouded. All his memories, all his _happiest _memories, had been with his brother and as the dementor grew closer and the weight on his chest heavier, he knew right then and there that it was the end.

"E-expecto... patronum..." George whispered feebly now, his legs failing him as he fell to the floor. _Fred's last words..._ "E-expecto... p-p-patronum." The dementor was closing in on him, and he could feel the little joy he had left draining slowly away. _Fred's last smile... _"E-expecto... e-e-expec-to..." He could feel the cold breath of the dementor as its hand stretched out towards him. _Fred's last breath... _"E-expecto..." The dementor was directly in front him, its ghoulish breath ice cold on his face. _Fred's last smile... still etched on his face... _"E-xpec..." The dementor closed in him, its mouth opening, ready for the kiss of death.

"George!" a voice screamed, shattering the stillness of the air. _Mum? _George thought as he saw a figure a few feet behind the dementor, whip out a wand. "EXPECTO..." the figure shouted. _Ginny? _The dementor whipped its head around trying to find the source of its distraction. "PATRONUM!" the figure finished, sending a bright, silver, patronus towards the dementor as it tried to propel itself away.

The last thing George remembered as his vision blurred and he swam into unconsciousness was the voice, angelic yet filled with fear, saying his name and a blur of chestnut colored hair as his last thought consumed him. _Hermione..._

**Comments? Suggestions?**


	2. The Boy Who Wanted to Be Left Behind

**I'm sorry for taking such a long break from posting. I know that this is only the second chapter and already I'm taking such a long time to post, but please bear with me. There's a lot of things going on in my life. I'm just so busy, being a senior and all. So I'm really sorry. But I promise to try and post more often. SO, without much further ado... I present the second chapter of the story. I hope you guys like it. **

_Cold... _That was the only word on George Weasley's mind as he opened his eyes and turned to look around him. _It's so cold, _he thought as he adjusted to his dim surroundings. The redhead blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the scene before him, but all he could see were grey and white figures swirling in the darkness.

"W-what-" he rasped, his throat dry. George tried to raise his hand to face, but the movement hurt so badly that he groaned in pain.

"George! George!" A voice cried out. George shook his head, his body aching all over. He groaned again as a face swam into focus. _Brown hair, chestnut colored eyes... _"Hermione?"

A sigh of relief pierced the stillness in the air. "Yes George. It's me... Get up, get up please. We have to go," the brunette replied. George's vision cleared, and he could see now where he was. _Diagon Alley, _he thought as Hermione reached for him. "What happened?" George asked, realizing that he was lying in the middle of an empty street, his clothes damp and muddy, Hermione kneeling in front of him her hair plastered onto her face. She was shaking him violently, trying to rouse him, and the look on her face made George shudder in fear.

"George, please! I can't hold it off any longer," she said trying to pull him off the floor. George's eyes widened as the events of the moments before came racing back to him. He sat up suddenly, his face deathly white. "The dementor!" He shouted trying to scramble up, his eyes simultaneously looking for his wand. George tried to stand, but the ache in his muscles and the throb in his head made him stumble back onto the pavement.

"George!" Hermione shouted as she grabbed hold of him. George slumped against her, his face shocked and pale as he realized that the blur of grey that he had seen only moments before was the image of a dementor's cloak coming swiftly towards them. "We have to go," Hermione said as she took George by the arm and tried to steer him away, while at the same time holding up her wand and pointing it at the fast approaching darkness. "Expecto patronum!" she shouted as a silver otter came speeding out of her wand.

The dementor backed away for a few seconds, but it seemed that Hermione, exhausted and losing focus, had been using the spell for way too long, since, moments after it was conjured, the patronus flickered and died. "No..." Hermione whispered to herself, before turning to George who was leaning against her for support. "George we have to move. Now!" she shouted as the dementor sped towards them. George, with a barely any strength left in him, moved crookedly in the direction that Hermione steered him towards.

They limped through the streets together, Hermione bearing most of his weight, as they took turns looking back to see the dementor trailing behind them. "We just need to make it to the shop," Hermione murmured, breathless from the effort of trying to hold the redhead up.

"Hermione..." George said, panting as he tried to lift his weight off of Hermione but to no avail. The dementor was speeding towards them, its only goal to attack.

"We can make it, George. Don't worry," she smiled, struggling to support him as she tried to send another weak patronus at the oncoming dementor, "now come one. Just a few more blocks."

The rain was still pouring heavily down onto the pair as they made their way towards the joke shop. George realized that they were both soaking wet, red and brown hair plastered onto both their faces, water streaming down around them. He could barely see in front of him, but George could clearly perceive the person who stood beside him.

Hermione, with her now dark brown hair strewn all over her face, had her eyebrows knit together as she tried to focus on getting them out of the rain. George could see the strain in her eyes and the pressure that he was putting on her as he limped through the streets. He could feel her heart vibrating through her chest and her lungs drawing in sharp and shallow breaths. Hermione was tired he knew, the patronus she had conjured to keep the dementor away from him combined with the effort it now took to lead his confused self home was enough to tire anyone out. But, she stayed vigilant, and tried with the best of her ability to get him into the joke shop.

"George!" Hermione shouted as he slipped from her grasp, falling right into a puddle of water. She bent over trying to help him, but the more she tried to pull him up, the more they struggled. Behind them, the dementor was fast approaching. Hermione turned towards him, her face contorted in worry. "Come on George!" she said, her face streaked with rainwater.

"Hermione, just leave. Now!" George shouted as a rush of bone-chilling cold air raced up his spine. _It's getting nearer, _he thought as he pulled away from Hermione. "Leave! Now! Go to the joke shop, I can make it. Don't worry," he said, knowing fully well that if Hermione left him, he would not be able to make it back to the joke shop alive.

"No, I won't leave you," she said, struggling to pull him up. "I've lost one Weasley already. I'm not about to lose another one. Please..." she said, her hand outstretched, her eyes asking him to grab it and go. But, George's world had frozen as the implications dawned on him.

_Fred, _he thought, his heart skipping a beat as he realized that this was his chance to be with him again. His brother, his twin, his other half, what George wouldn't give to see Fred again, what he wouldn't give to see his brother's smile and hear his laugh. George closed his eyes, shutting himself from the physical world before him. He could leave now if he wanted to. He could be with his brother again. He could be happy once more.

George imagined himself with his twin. They would be inseparable, if he chose to stay behind. The hole in his heart would be finally filled again, if he chose to stay behind. The pain in his chest would disappear, if he chose to stay behind. If he chose to stay behind...

"George!" a voice said, bringing him back to reality. George's eyes snapped open and he looked towards Hermione. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes were wet and dripping. Around her the rain poured down and the streets flooded with water. On any ordinary day he would have been drawn to the sight of the droplets of water splashing onto the pavement, but the sound of Hermione's panicked but melodic voice drew him towards her. She was frightened, that much he knew, but her face showed no signs of terror, only compassion for the boy who wanted to be left behind. And in that moment George suddenly knew what to do. He had made his choice.

**Comments? Suggestions?**


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